


Circumstance

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Cross My Heart [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Also can I just say this pairing is adorable?, Angst, Clearly I have a thing for angst, I love PotC so much I'm hoping to write more, I'm shit at tagging sorry, M/M, This has sex in in, fingers crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 18:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10542291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: Unbetaed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.

"Stay?" he whispered. The night was cold and still, but not quiet. They were a small ways from Tortuga - quiet enough to ignore the noise, but close enough to hear the occasional fight. The man beside him laughed softly.

"You know I can't, Harry," he replied, stretching out. His chest was damp with cooling sweat, and tanned from long days spent on a ship in the sun. He seemed relaxed, but Harry could feel the tensing in his shoulders as the subject was broached.

"I know," he whispered. He'd have said more, but it always ended in a fight, and he didn't particularly want to fight right now. Not when his lover would be leaving in a scant few hours. "Doesn't mean I won't miss you." Harry didn't look at his face, not wanting to meet the knowing brown eyes.

"No," he conceded. "I suppose it doesn't."

"Jack, I-" he cut off, his throat suddenly hurting. He didn't know what to say, so he just settled for playing with the man's beaded hair. "Never mind."

Jack frowned, looking over at him. Harry knew he was staring expectantly at him, waiting for Harry to meet his eyes, but he couldn't. Not when he felt so tired and lost. This wasn't what love was supposed to feel like, he told himself. It wasn't supposed to make him this weak, or hopeless. It was supposed to make him happy.

"I know, Harry," the man told him forcefully. "I know you want me to stay. But I _can't_." Then, softer, "I'd rather die."

And Harry felt like someone had stabbed him. The air in his chest left him, even as he knew that Jack hadn't meant it that way. And he could never ask Jack to give up the sea for him, not when he knew it would be caging him. Not when he knew exactly what that felt like.

Even so, it hurt more than he cared to admit, and Harry didn't think he could speak for fear of his voice cracking, so he forced himself to let out a noncommittal hum and turned away.

Lying on his side, he took a moment to calm his emotions and his facial expression, deliberately relaxing all his muscles to make himself seem uncaring.

"Goodnight, Jack," he whispered. He didn't particularly want to talk about this, not anymore. Jack could never leave the sea, and Harry could never be a part of that - looting and fighting and hurting. Perhaps that was weak of him, but he had had enough of bloodshed to last him several lifetimes, and he could never leave his healing behind. There were so many people who relied on him - he could never live with himself if he made that choice.

Jack had tried, multiple times. But Harry also knew that Jack didn't really love him. Oh, he cared for him, but Jack's first and foremost love was and had always been the sea, and nobody, certainly not someone like Harry, could ever come close to that.

So, though Jack cared for him, Harry also knew he was nowhere near the man's priority, and though he loved Jack more than anything, he realised that going with him was a one-way trip to being abandoned.

Because that was just the way Jack was.

The man was running a finger down his back now, slowly trailing down his spine. "Still so thin." He whispered. Harry shivered at the touch, surprisingly delicate for someone so rough and passionate. "Still so sensitive." Jack continued, and Harry could hear the grin in his voice now. He still didn't turn.

"Harry." And now there were kisses on his neck, and an arm around his waist, and Harry knew what was coming next.

When Jack made love to him then, just as they lay in exactly that position, it was gentle and apologetic, and they both knew Harry wouldn't see him again for maybe even years. They knew he was sorry, that they were both sorry, but neither of them would ever budge from what they had worked so hard for. They were both too stubborn.

Jack was in no rush to finish, pulling one of Harry's legs up to have more space and keeping up a steady supply of kisses all over his lover's neck and ear and cheek. He moved like that, teasing until Harry was grasping at the sheets and moaning, until Harry was moving back into him and they were so warm, so hot, despite the cool temperature of the night.

In a few hours, Jack would pick up his clothes and leave as quietly as possible, and Harry would once again wake to a cold, empty bed, but for now they tried to forget as they reveled, just for now, in the intensity and pleasure of their emotions.


End file.
